


Into The Garden Soil

by Nevermore9



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-01 10:13:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4015873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevermore9/pseuds/Nevermore9
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the age of fifty Wirt Endicott dies, and he awakens in a familiar world with familiar faces. However, as Gregory mourns his brother an old enemy appears with a tempting offer. This time they're not going over the wall, but into the soil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into The Garden Soil

The wind rustled through Gregory's hair, circling in his ear and producing the accidental sound of a low wailing hum. For an instant Gregory recognized the whispering of his brother in the breeze, but corrected himself, knowing he was just grasping at straws being blown about in the crisp air, always out of reach. Gregory inhaled the Autumn, the colors of red and orange, the overtone of earthy brown, the mind soothing sound of silence. All these things he could remember holding in fond remembrance as a child; but now, now he despised the tarnished characteristics of the season. Rejected them out of bitterness and grief. It was an unjustified hatred, but it wasn't not understandable.  
A bone biting chill shivered up Gregory's shoulders and around his collarbone, he tugged his short black coat closer around his quivering form. Gregory crouched to the ground, knees tucked up to his breast. His brown eyes now scanned across the one thing he held higher above all else, more than anything he could ever possess or his own life. It was something unattainable, anyone could have it by mere thinking, but yet it was no one's. It was simply the stone name "Wirt Endicott" skillfully engraved into a round slab of granite.  
With Gregory's eyes moving over the headstone he could see everything anyone would want to know about, his birthdate, date of death, cause of death, age at death, and his relatives consisting of just his mother, father, stepfather, and Gregory. It may have all that anyone would want to know about his brother, but not everything that they needed to know. It didn't show his tendency to shyness, but also incredible kindness. It didn't show his unoptimistic cynicism, nor the poetic view of life he held underneath. It didn't show how he would recite works of literature to himself in the night, and it didn't show his aptitude for playing the clarinet, nor refined knowledge of architure and design. Most importantly it didn't show the loving reverance he held for his brother, and his family.  
Gregory grazed his fingers gently over the embossed name, he felt like he should be crying but he couldn't bring himself to do it; he'd done more than enough frantic sobbing over the past two weeks than was probably considered common for a man his age. He wanted to cry though, he wanted some way to let all the painful agony eating out his heart just flow down his cheeks.  
"Excuse me, Sir."  
Gregory whipped his head back to the sudden voice in the quiet. A tall and lean old man stood sullenly behind him, wrapped in a dark overcoat, and a glimmering lantern held in his right hand.  
"Sun's almost down now, Sir." The man remarked, raising his lantern to unmask his gray and wrinkled face, his skin faintly but unmistakably resembling rotted wood. His sunken and tired pupils stared off to the dying light in the sky, sinking below the horizon.  
"Yes, I was just finishing. I'll be going." Gregory replied somberly as he rose to feet, almost apologetic to the Groundskeeper. His head was down and with one look to the old man he shuffled past the lantern wielding Groundskeeper, clutching his jacket over his shoulders to fight out the cold.  
A sudden call caught Gregory's attention back to the distant form of the silhouette man, grim face flickering in the lantern light. "I'm sorry." The Groundskeeper spoke. "For your loss."  
Gregory nodded back to the man in thanks, and in departure, then continued his meandering way to the cemetary gate, the name of Wirt on his mind.


End file.
